I want to write the words I wish were written for me. For those dark moments I kept to myself and insisted on standing alone — even though I never really was.

Aug 29, 2017

The hurricane came,

but there’s not much different here.

The ground is wet, but I’m not sidestepping puddles anymore. There are fallen tree limbs strewn about, but none so large that I can’t move them myself.

My life is largely unchanged in the wake of the hurricane. The hurricane still marching slowly a few hundred miles southeast now.

On one hand I am relieved and thankful for how fortunate we are the storm did not fall on our city as forecasted. On the other my heart aches for those who had their lives ripped from this over the weekend.

Many were just catching a break and starting to get ahead. Many were turning over a new leaf and a new life. Many had little and now have none. To say I cannot even imagine doesn’t quite capture it.

What I can do in the coming days isn’t much. Volunteer some of my time. Donate the few extra dollars I have. It’s not much, but it’s something.

And “it’s something” put forth by many is how the world is changed. It always has been.